Icecream
by SpookshowBabyx
Summary: Regina overhears the Charmings discussing Emma's birthday plans... Much to Emma's displeasure. Taking the opportunity to enjoy her own dose of antagonising the blonde; the Mayor takes up their seat to share her own opinions. (one day... someone else will write these things for me!)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_A birthday present for one of my favourite people; littledragonflyson on here :) This was a bit of a spur of the moment piece so had no clue what was going to happen, but... yes... Prompt: Icecream._

_As far as when this is set, it's a little AU. Set after the return from Neverland, but based on the theory that Rumple was able to defeat Pan, thus leaving SB in an odd lull of 'hey! no one's trying to kill us all right now!' (I know, I know, it'll never happen.)_

* * *

"Well... Just think on it, Emma... I know it's not really your scene, but _we'd_ really like to do something for your Birthday... It doesn't have to be something big, just-"

"_-Okay!_... Okay, I'll think about it..."

The blonde grumbles as she toys with the fries on her plate and glowers at Granny's small noise of bemusement from the corner that matches her mother's perfectly. Offering the old cook a stern glance which has the greying woman swiftly slipping from behind the counter to see to her customers, she sighs, before nibbling apathetically at her food while Snow and David watch her as though waiting for something. Growling irritably, she rolls her eyes as she refuses to look up from her plate.

"I said I'd think about it, I didn't mean right this _second_..."

Accepting this moody murmur as a dismissal, Mary Maragaret frowns and shrugs her shoulders; sliding from her stool and making for the door followed by Charming, while her anxious lament of

"I _knew_ she'd be like this about it, maybe we should have just stuck to the idea of a surprise party..."

reaches the curious Mayor, who smiles down at her own plate. Waiting for the two idiots to leave, she studies the Sheriff in amusement; the younger woman's response to the offer of a jovial celebration entirely predictable so far as she's concerned. Tapping her knife lightly against her glass to illicit a little tune, she raises an eyebrow when the blonde glances back at her to suss the source of the noise, and offers her a knowing smirk, which widens when the Sheriff narrows her eyes and returns to her food.

Slipping from her booth and stalking breezily over to where Emma sits, Regina takes up the stool next to her and snaps at Ruby to fetch her a fresh coffee.

"No confetti and balloons, dear? You _do_ surprise me..."

"What are you talking about?"

The younger woman grumbles lamely, and the brunette rolls her eyes as she pours cream into the steaming mug placed tentatively before her.

"Your- oh so surprising- lack of enthusiasm in the face of a Charming birthday."

"How did you know it's my-"

"-Your birthday tomorrow? Please. Those two are about as stealthy and capable of conversing at an appropriate volume as Henry and yourself. That, and the day of your birth has had _quite_ an impact on my_ own_ life, Miss Swan... _Twice_ in fact."

"Oh yeah... The curse-"

"Mmm, 'that old thing', not to mention Goldilocks showing up on my doorstep and endangering my relationship with my son... Both rather memorable occurrences..."

A small hint of a grin at this, but still the blonde refrains from looking up, and simply paints lines of sauce with her fries on the white china.

"Hey, is she actually real?"

"Hmm?"

"Goldilocks."

"No more so than the three little pigs. She's just a legend used in a tale to keep small children from wandering too deep into the forest."

"...Like Hansel and Gretel, you mean...?"

"Magic and witches were a tactile fear in that other land, Miss Swan. Bears too, but for the same reason as they are in _this_ world."

Regina sniffs, and the blonde finally chuckles in response to the irritability that laces the Mayor's words. Sighing, she looks over at the Queen an proffers her an awkward smile, before finding her composure and adopting a cool look of disinterest. Emma's tentative grin isn't lost on the Mayor, however, and the latter sips at her coffee delicately as she studies the young blonde go about pouring several sachets of sugar into her own mug.

She's pretty sure she understands the reasoning behind Emma's reaction, as it has become somewhat of a normality between the two of them over the past month or so. At first, with the threat of Pan vanquished by Rumplestilstkin but still electric in the atmosphere, there had been a tension within the odd little group of which she has yet to figure out_ exactly_ how she'd become a part of- seeming to have inadvertently navigated towards the blonde for lack of a better option- as Hook, Neal and Emma had engaged in some sort of awkward dance that had promptly gone absolutely nowhere.

Indeed, about six weeks ago, Regina had found herself sat- to her own surprise- perched on the bench outside the Station, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, while the Sheriff had swung her legs precariously from her position balancing on the narrow railing, and Emma had amiably confided her own thoughts on the matter, as if they were in some way friendly towards one another.

She has since had to accept the simple fact of this being the case.

Just as she has found- that so long as neither of them mentions or dwells on the subject- that she is happy to let such a slip in judgement slide.

The rest of it though... The way their old, heated tension has led way to what she can only call_ flirting_- not that she would _ever_ allow herself to do such a thing- and the way her schedule has suddenly become inundated with 'town policy' meetings with the younger woman despite the thankful calm once more having settled over Storybrooke, is a little_ less_ palatable.

She thinks back to the evening before last; sitting out in her superbly landscaped garden after putting Henry to bed, sipping at a glass of wine, while the younger woman had been sat sprawled out on her lawn, sporting an untidy ponytail and sunglasses that had reflected the lowering rays redly. Emma had come over to drop off Henry's comic left at the Station, and had proceeded to smile affirmatively in response to the casual offer of a drink. It had only been when the younger woman had complimented her on her haircut and she had playfully admonished that the blonde should perhaps consider following suite, that it had occurred to the brunette that there had been no reason at_ all _to invite the Sheriff across the threshold.

Frowning now, as she had then, she places her mug down carefully, before smiling as Emma winces at the sweetness of the liquid in her own. Cocking her head thoughtfully she smirks as she inquires lightly

"Did you_ really_ buy yourself a cake for your birthday last year?"

"Huh?"

"When you showed up at my house, and you were telling me about how Henry came to you and how it was all 'fate' and-"

"-I never said that-"

"-No, but your expression said enough to compensate for you lack of eloquence, as is usually the case... You told me you bought yourself a cake."

"Well, yeah... I _like_ cake... Why-"

"-And _I l_ike lasagne. But I don't make myself a solitary portion, stick a candle in it, and then tell people about such things."

"... Your point?"

"Oh, no point, I was just pitying your sorry existence, dear."

"That makes a change."

Regina chuckles at the blonde's irritable grumbling, and plucks a note from her purse; sliding it under her mug.

"What kind of cake was it?"

"... You're mocking me, aren't you..."

"Maybe. Humor me."

"Just one of those vanilla cup cake thingies."

"Wild..."

"Yeah, well, _you_ find a bakery open after dark- while dressed like a hooker- that's serving brownies or ice-cream cake or whatever else decent!"

"Dressed like a hooker?"

"... I was working."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"Dressed like a hooker."

"...It was a set up that was supposed to seem like a date... And _before_ you go imagining-"

"-oh, my dear, save whatever irritation you have; I'm having a hard enough time imagining you on a date at _all..._"

"Yeah, well, what would _you_ know? What, you and Graham enjoyed candlelit-"

"-We enjoyed more romantic experiences than launching ourselves at each other in the middle of a jungle, I can tell you_ that_ much!... Of course, when one is comparing such incidences with the back seat of a_ car_, then-"

"-Oh, go take off the edge, Regina!"

The Sheriff grumbles, shoving her own crumpled wad of notes beside her plate, and swinging herself down from her stool moodily. Grabbing her things, she offers a sharp glance at the darker woman who blushes lightly in response to her snide insinuation, before stalking irritably out the door.

Clearing her throat, the brunette runs a finger pensively over her bottom lip, before signalling over the ditzy waitress.

"Miss Lucas, would you happen to know what an 'ice-cream cake' consists of?"

"I guess... But we've never served any I don't think."

"Would you know how to _make_ one, though?"

Ruby frowns; having come to accept that Regina has changed, but in no way sure how she feels about sharing culinary tips with the once Evil Queen.

"I could... I guess if you tell us when you want it for, I could-"

"-Just write down what it is and how one might make such a thing."

The Mayor offers dismissively; plucking and pen and notebook from her purse and sliding them across to the confused young woman. Baring Ruby's wariness no mind, she takes her phone from her bag and taps at the keys briskly.

_To: Blonde Idiot. 13.04pm:_

_Something's come up. As you have no interest in celebrating tomorrow anyway, I expect you at mine for 8pm to discuss. Don't be late._

_Regina M._

* * *

Glancing down at her phone as it vibrates on her desk, Emma rolls her eyes and mutters beneath her breath. She supposes that in a way it's a good thing that the brunette seems set on sticking to at least _some_ of her old ways, as she now has an excuse to leave whatever festivities await her tomorrow, and not feel quite so guilty about doing so.

"Still... An evening with an irate Mayor Mills... Happy Birthday to me..."

She groans; sarcasm dripping from her tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Sooo... Firstly; part one was an intended one-shot. Secondly... This was then going to be some light hearted smut... Neither of those things happened! Again, this went somewhere I had no clue it was going to, but I figure I already have quite a few simpler sexy-times stories up here, so wanted to play with a storyline I'd been thinking about for a while and see how it was received. Hope you like it, and please review! :)_

* * *

Regina makes it eight fifteen by the time she hears the Sheriff's bug struggling up the driveway. As a rule, she is a woman for whom lateness is a highly detested sin, but she imagines that if she were still to allow herself to get unnecessarily bothered by the_ blonde's_ time keeping, she would have suffered an aneurism long before now.

Peeking out the window at the top of the stairs, she watches as the scrap pile Emma insists on referring to as a car shudders to an uneasy stop and emits a defeated puff of unhealthy smoke. A few seconds later, the woman in question emerges and gives the driver's side front tire a hearty kick as she slams the door shut with unbridled agitation.

"Oh dear..."

The brunette purrs; her expression entirely serene.

Neatening out a small crease in the light summer dress she'd worn beneath a smart blazer earlier on, she pokes her head quickly round the door to Henry's room to check on the boy. As she had suspected, he lies sound asleep, despite the reddening sun casting a hazy glow over the room. Since returning from Neverland and falling more or less back into their old routine, the young brunet has once again become one to retire early and wake up late; something which she supposes is entirely understandable given the general chaos of everyday life in their small town.

She supposes it _also_ doesn't hurt that the boy had spent the previous evening with the blonde; knowing full well that- despite his adamant declarations to the contrary- his head won't have hit the pillow long before midnight.

And, she had pretended to mind.

After all, it's what's expected of her.

But, in actual fact, she'd been more interested in knowing what festivities the Charmings had ended up bestowing upon their spawn... One takes ammunition where one can find it, after all.

Smirking as she is heralded by a low rapping at the front door- three curt knocks; same as always- she descends the stairs leisurely, and pulls open heavy wood with an arrogant toss of her hair.

"You're late."

"Yeah, well, I would have been here sooner if that thing could handle anything over thirty-five."

"Perhaps you might start taking account of such things, as this was the same excuse you were giving me on your first week of the job, or perhaps try the Cruiser. I'm almost positive that the town didn't donate funds due to a deep desire to view a perfectly decent vehicle left forlorn to rust in the parking lot."

"It's after hours..."

"I see... Sheriff Swan; won't stoop to using half a mile's worth of gas on her own time, but sees no problem in stashing a bottle of bourbon in the top drawer of her desk alongside her badge..."

Regina murmurs- rather loudly- to no one in particular as she turns on her heel and strides gracefully away from the door and towards the kitchen.

"That was Graham's!"

Emma argues behind her; darting smartly to the side as heavy wood begins to swing promptly closed in her face.

"Mmm..."

Comes the disinterested reply from the Mayor, who knows full well that the bottle had belonged to the young woman's predecessor, having been the one who had bought him the potent blend in the first place.

"So what did you want, anyway?-"

Emma drawls as she stalks into the kitchen and leans against the fridge with her arms crossed and her hip cocked

"-If it's about the old bean field, I'm still waiting to hear from Leroy about whether he thinks the soil is too fucked to grow stuff."

"Hmm... Strangely, 'fucked' soil, wasn't on my agenda. As to the 'sustainability of the land', I realise you need a second opinion before we can progress... Though, what that_ dwarf_ knows about the matter I have yet to realise?"

"He said he knew what he was talking about and Mary Margaret vouched for him... I'm working off sheer word of mouth here, Regina, I mean, I never knew fairies were particularly_ god-fearing_ either, but..."

Emma shrugs, and the brunette chuckles as she perches lightly on one of the high-backed chairs that flank her kitchen table.

"Yes, well, if that word seems founded, then I have no qualms with that foul-mouthed drunk getting his hands dirty."

"...'Gina."

"A mere personal observation, Sheriff, we are, as you said; out of hours."

Emma rolls her eyes, but the Queen catches the beginnings of a grin, before she is huskily reprimanded

"Still... Maybe try a better form of address if you want people to like you..."

"My dear, I couldn't care any less if I_ tried_ about whether the people of this town like me or not, just so long as they stay out of my way!"

"... That's not strictly _true_... I mean... You wouldn't want things to be how they were, I_ know_ you wouldn't."

"On the contrary, I would prefer the peace... And, just because you lot show up in my life every five minutes, doesn't mean I'm thrilled about the fact, nor does it mean that you all suddenly like me."

The brunette chides a little bitterly; not so much out of any form of desire, but rather as she doesn't imagine for a second Emma could understand how she feels on the matter. It is with twisted amusement that she herself has a hard time seeing how it could be that the _blonde_ is revered so highly by the cretins of the town; Emma's irritatable and surly ways striking her as traits that should render the young woman rather unapproachable to those who haven't seen the... Well... _Tolerable_... reality she carries beneath her guise.

It simply doesn't make _sense_ to her that the Sheriff should be seen as preferable company to herself- curse or no curse- as at the very least she has mastered the difficult task of not talking with her mouthful and tucking in her shirt!

Such inane pondering threatens to bring a smile to her lips, which is swiftly vanquished when Emma shrugs and challenges

"Who says we don't like you? I'm just saying maybe try being a bit nicer about people and who _knows_ what might happen! I mean... You and_ I_ never got on before, and _now_ we're-... Well, now we do."

She finishes gruffly with a defensive shrug, and the darker woman's eyes flash curiously as she opts to skim over any deep-seated emotion with sarcasm.

"I see... Spoken like the true daughter of Snow White... You're getting _wise_ in your old age, dear."

"Yeah?"

The blonde inquires with a small grin, and Regina rolls her eyes and moves over to the fridge- pushing the younger woman gently out of the way despite the fact that Emma had already made to step aside of her own accord- and plucks out a bottle of chilled Chardonnay.

"I hadn't forgotten. Happy Birthday, Sheriff."

She delivers her congratulations as though speaking of something utterly despicable, but the younger woman grins and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, and Regina eventually smiles as she gives a few deft twists of the corkscrew.

"Thanks."

"No ball gown or fancy up-do, I see?"

Emma snorts with dark humour and takes the glass proffered to her over to the table.

"Not quite. There _was_ a badge, though..."

"How... Charming..."

The brunette winks; dark coals roaming the younger woman's svelte frame as though searching for evidence. The blonde susses what the Mayor appears to be doing and shakes her head; hoping that the heat she can feel creeping across her cheeks due to Regina's keen observation isn't noticeable.

"I'm not wearing it."

"Spoil-sport."

"I'm the Sheriff!"

"And, if you wore the uniform Graham gave you rather than... Well, yes... That would be a viable argument."

"I already _have_ a badge."

"Ah yes, and god forbid it should feel neglected while lying under all the rest of your rubbish."

"...I'm not wearing a bright yellow badge, Regina."

"No, I'd have figured as much... In that respect you're very much unlike your mother."

"Oh, come on, give her a break. Like _Mary Margaret_ would walk around declaring herself queen for the day... You know... In, uh, in that context."

"Hmm..."

The brunette offers irritably, but her agitation soon subsides, and her tone is smooth and pleasant as she continues between delicate sips of wine.

"Of Mary Margaret, I have no clue as to her celebratory style, save for a substantial lack of taste when it comes to 'welcome home' streamers. I was speaking from experience, however. I remember when Snow turned twelve she had me lace her into three different dresses over the course of the day, and ordered that everyone else in the castle should wear white. I bought her a bouquet of pink begonias- the colour is affiliated with birthdays and coming of age back in our land- and she had me plait some of them into her hair, lest anyone find themselves confused as to just _whose_ day it was..."

The darker woman rolls her eyes disdainfully, while the Sheriff licks some escaped wine off the rim of her glass- her tongue flat and swift in a most unladylike fashion that has the brunette looking quickly away- and raises an eyebrow.

"You bought Snow White_ flowers?_"

It's a legitimate question, the Mayor supposes, so she struggles to harness the irritation she feels due to the blonde's disbelief.

"What you need to understand, Miss Swan... Emma... Is that what you've_ read_ about, actually_ happened_... It was_ real_ life. As such, my wedding being that to the King took a great deal of time to organise. It was a celebration for not just us, but the whole Kingdom, you see? From the day I saved your mother from whatever menial injury she might have sustained falling off that horse- supposing the animal didn't just calm down and mellow out of its own accord- to the day I was wed, there was an interim period of about ten months. Little is mentioned about this time in Henry's book as little _happened_. My mother and my husband took care of what they saw fit, while I simply dreaded the day. My qualm at that point was with Leopold, not with his daughter, and in some ways having Snow around seemed like a blessing..."

"...How old_ were_ you?... The book doesn't say... Actually, yeah! how old _are_ you?!"

Regina sniffs primly, but her eyes belie her amusement as she reprimands sharply

"One must never ask a lady her age, dear, it isn't good manners."

"Says the woman asking me where my birthday badge might be..."

The brunette laughs, and sips her wine; surprised at the way Emma regards her with unguarded interest, and enjoying her audience.

"I had just turned eighteen before the day in the field. I know that_ technically_ that would make me of age- in fact, my mother was growing distraught as to my lack of a suitable match by this point- but... To me..."

"...It's young. It's very young to be forced into something you don't want to do or don't feel ready for."

"Indeed... As _you_ know better than most. I gather from the date on Henry's birth certificate that you must have been seventeen when you... When that situation came about..."

The blonde's cheeks flare scarlet, and the Mayor continues swiftly; paying emma's discomfort no concern, but making it clear she doesn't revel in it either.

"That wasn't a stab at you, dear, but rather my opinion. I have never- nor _will_ I ever- discuss such things as becoming a woman, or the loss of my virtue with _anyone,_ and I_ do_ also realise that things may be different where you come from, but I personally believe eighteen is too young to understand enough about life to rule over others, even if that other is just a baby. Eighteen is young, and seventeen is younger_ still_. As to anything before that, I will leave you to your privacy unless you have any argument on the matter?"

"... No, I agree..."

"I'm glad. Many people didn't."

"Your mother?"

"My Kingdom. Well, what was to _be_ my kingdom. They had their attractive young stand-in for the late Queen, and a woman to make their royal family whole again. I _had_ said 'yes' let's not forget. I was nervous, and I was unhappy as my heart belonged to another. My King was also thirty-two years my elder, and this did little to lift my spirits. I didn't have anyone to talk to about such things, and he and I had very little in common. During that time, I spent most of my free hours with Snow. She was closer in age to myself than her father was, and, while having a snobbish little brat running around at my heels was a far cry from the peace I'd been treated to as an only child, I enjoyed her company more than just my own. We were actually quite friendly until she... She made her mistake."

The Mayor finishes with a curt nod to imply that she understands that now is not the time- after all that has come to pass- to express what happened as outright betrayal. She supposes she will always think upon Snow's actions as something along those lines, but she has found also that she doesn't enjoy allocating blame amongst the idiots that surround her as she once had.

She has had to do a lot of re-evaluating over the past year- especially while trapped on that hateful island with Snow and her family- and she no longer knows exactly _what_ she feels. She just knows it's not hate.

And that Emma does_ nothing_ to _alleviate_ her confusion.

Something which frustrates her all the_ more_, as the Sheriff's boundaries when it comes to appropriate behaviour and her own differ quite drastically.

It had been one thing to realise she could just about stand the younger woman as a friendly ear to share her thoughts with.

It had been something else entirely having summer set in upon them, and finding herself in the Sheriff's company while not on the clock only to have the blonde shuck up her top to better appreciate the rays. To have her dropping her layers to flimsy scraps of fabric that leave little to the imagination as to the younger woman's favoured bra colour.

Black.

Underwear too, it turns out, following a trip to the Diner to collect Henry, only to be informed by a rather sweat-ridden Ruby that she'd put up the sprinkler in the hedged section of the back yard to let Henry play in the water. Regina had thanked her curtly- inwardly already working on her angry monologue towards the blonde for allowing the boy to get his new jeans wet and grass stained- and stalked out onto the patio to claim him... She needn't have worried about Henry's jeans, as it turned out, as her son had been screaming bloody murder while chasing the Sheriff through the icy jets of the sprinkler in just his boxers.

The younger woman herself had been clad in a grey tank and a pair of black, cotton bikini briefs, toting a neon orange water pistol.

Regina had turned woodenly away and marched curtly back through the Diner and out to the safety of her Benz, where she had texted the Sheriff to let her know she would be working late and to drop Henry off whenever the two of them were done with whatever it was they were doing.

A half hour later, Emma had done just that; leaving after a brief exchange of pleasantries feeling confused as to the Mayor's continual dropped gaze to her legs.

No, the brunette muses now as she watches the blonde contemplate the last of her wine from beneath sooty lashes; having the Sheriff around does nothing to alleviate her confusion.

"I suppose you've eaten?"

She enquires lightly; pushing her thoughts to the side and offering the younger woman a brilliant smile that has the latter grinning sheepishly back in return.

"I had some dinner, yeah."

There is no_ reason_ for her to feel sheepish, but Emma just finds that when she's in the darker woman's presence, she tends to get a little flustered and shy; not a predicament she often finds herself in, but then neither is the calibre of her present company. The brunette is _worryingly_ easy to fall in awe of, and she supposes she understands some of what was retold on the pages of Henry's book for this very reason. The Queen carries a charisma that she has yet to see matched by any other, and this danger is coupled with being _fatally_ attractive. In short, Regina provides both intimidating and fascinating company, and the fact that it turns out she has more use for her wit than just to cut is a definite plus.

She likes Regina.

And _may_ just be a little enamoured with her in the process, though this is not something she's about to muse upon too deeply.

_Fuck me but does that dress suit her well, though... And not in that severe 'Mayoral' way, either... It's just a really flattering colour on her I guess, and-... Yeah... Good one, Swan... Goddamn it, you're an idiot..._

This small scolding voice gives way to the younger drawl she remembers from high school and suggests impishly

_Not an idiot, not at all! It's the dress! The dress is lovely, and would look pretty fucking fantastic balled up and ripped on the floor!_

She lets out a surprised giggle that she swiftly camouflages as a hiccup and looks down at her hands with wide eyes and her teeth clamped over her lips until she trusts herself to speak.

Regina raises an eyebrow at this odd chain of behaviour but says nothing on the subject; simply rising from her chair and stalking over to the freezer.

"Well, if you don't have room, then I suppose you can take it home with you, but..."

Shrugging nonchalantly- as though she has only just remembered its existence- the brunette pulls a small, lidded container from between frozen fish and ice, and places it on the counter. Its transparent sides allow the Sheriff to spy its contents and the blonde opens her mouth in genuine surprise.

"Ice cream cake..."

"Well, I just thought that as you mentioned it yesterday..."

"... You made this?"

Damning emerald stares up at her with wide innocence, and the Mayor sniffs dismissively and shrugs; pulling down a couple of bowls from the wall-mounted cabinet to her right.

"... It was hardly rocket science. It took me all of five minutes."

Regina states curtly as she slides a bowl of oreo, mint and vanilla crumbled with brownie over at the younger woman.

"Yeah... But..."

"I'm not about to put a candle in it or anything, mind."

She scolds; pursing her lips as Emma laughs merrily.

"You're not even going to sing for me?"

"Who says I made this specifically for _you_, anyway, dear? I could have just-"

"-Well, it was kind of implied by your candle comment..."

"Yes... Well..."

The darker woman bristles, but the blonde shakes her head and loads up her spoon this practiced ease.

"Yeah well_ nothing_... Cheer up... I'm showing you quite a leap of faith in eating this!"

Regina frowns in momentary confusion, before she finally chuckles darkly and raises her own spoon to her lips.

"Wrong time of year for apples, dear."

"Ah, you like me too much to kill me, anyway!"

Emma chides playfully; licking her spoon and missing the sharp glance the brunette throws her way.

"Let's not get carried away, dear..."

the blonde seems undeterred, and scrapes up the last dribbles of melted ice before offering up a sunny smile.

"...Thank you."

Offering a regally dismissive nod, the Mayor places the lid on what remains of the cake and holds it out to her guest authoritatively.

"Take the rest with you; it won't get eaten here."

"No need to worry about that!"

The Sheriff confides; recognising her cue to leave.

She follows Regina out into the hall and to the front door, smiling at her pleasantly in a way that is reciprocated prettily.

Inside, each woman marvels out how unlikely this scene would have seemed not a couple of months ago.

Nodding farewell, it is only when she moves to get into her car that Emma stills and calls out to the brunette who remains stood in the doorway admiring the sunset.

"Hey, Regina... What_ was_ it you wanted me to come over for, anyway?"

"Oh... Oh, it was the bean fields as you'd thought... I must have forgotten you'd said you'd need to hear back from the dwarf..."

"Right..."

"Right."

"... Thanks for the cake, Regina."


End file.
